I Will Be Yours
by EverybodysRussian1812
Summary: Is it possible for a captain and a Vulcan to truly fall in love? Such is the problem Jim Kirk and Spock must deal with after their first meeting. Continuation of First Meeting. May have language and violence, as well as sexual references.
1. First Meeting

Strains of soft ballroom music swished through the hall, causing skirts to be adjusted and hair to be swept back, tugging on the senses of prospective partners. Many pairs already scuffed the floor with their feet, and more still were seeking each other out and pulling their silken dress robes closer. Countless silent looks were exchanged. Small secret smiles sparkled on lips about to meet. Even those who slouched alone could sense the slow swirling of intimacy in the air.

It was a jarring feeling.

The recently promoted Captain Kirk was more aware than anyone on the dance floor of the pain of being alone. His new dress uniform was too tight around his chest, and too long on his arms. The gilded collar bit into his neck. And no matter how hard he looked, no one was giving him those sultry, excited gazes that followed him at all social functions. Yes, there were admiring glances shot in his direction, but their hands rested on other people's bodies…

Kirk continued scanning for someone to talk to, at least. The commodore was dancing with a blonde yeoman whose beehive hairstyle was almost as tall as he. He spotted Bones, also dancing, with a silly grin on his face. He caught Kirk's eye and gave a suggestive wink in the girl's direction before disappearing into the crowd. Kirk felt jealousy coiling heavily in his chest, but it was tempered by amusement at his Academy friend's blatant skirt-chasing. It was doomed to fail, of course, he thought humorously. Well, perhaps McCoy would be lucky. The air was bursting with sensations of assurance, the music whispering that you will be lucky, you'll find someone, you'll not sleep alone.

The messages pounding in his head, Kirk turned and began to walk slowly along the wall, looking at the pointed toes of his boots. His new crew was scattered in that happy crowd, soothed by the songs that hissed painfully in his ears. What a humiliation, to appear as one of those stuck-up Starfleet officers, someone who didn't deign to dance!

Kirk's only warning was another pair of boots appearing in his field of vision, and then he abruptly crashed into someone. The collision almost knocked him off his feet, but the other person grabbed his arms firmly and hauled him upright. For just a few seconds too long, he was staring directly into the eyes of a handsome Vulcan. He stammered apologies as he let go, still looking at him.

"It is quite alright, Captain." The Vulcan was just an inch or two taller than him, with black hair that was cropped short just above his angled eyebrows and pointed ears. Something about him didn't look fully Vulcan, though—Kirk couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was different. Maybe his bearing was just a little off, a tiny bit too arrogant. The captain knew him, too, and the name flashed through his head only seconds after making this observation.

"Mr. Spock, isn't it?" His first officer. Kirk tried to be suave. "Well, it's a pity that our first meeting outside of the briefing room had to be like this." His attempt did not succeed. He almost held out his hand to shake, but only just remembered that you didn't do that with Vulcans.

Spock raised his left eyebrow, giving his otherwise emotionless visage an endearingly sarcastic angle. "Indeed." He tried to pull his gaze away from Kirk's, but the captain couldn't take his eyes off his face. "I understand the _Enterprise_ is your first command."

"Yes, true." Sensing the awkwardness, Kirk finally looked away, casting his eyes across the hall. The exotic dark eyes of the Vulcan seemed to be imprinted on his visual memory. He smiled to himself. At least his first officer was physically attractive. Struck by a sudden impulse, he turned back to Spock, and asked, "Do you dance, Mr. Spock?"

Spock lifted his eyebrow again, and Kirk smiled at his charming appearance. "Not if I can help it." He saw Kirk's smile falter, and explained. "Dancing is a human entertainment. I am Vulcan, as you can see." His face and tone became even more ironic, and he added, "Although, if you demand it, Captain, I do know various classic Earth waltzes."

Kirk shrugged, twisting his face up into an indifferent pout. "Why not?" He stepped in front of Spock and reached for his waist. At the same time, Spock reached for his, and their hands bumped. Kirk read the confusion in his dark eyes and quickly switched his grip to the Vulcan's shoulder, allowing him to lead. So settled, they stepped out onto the dance floor.

The awkwardness did not decrease considerably from when he was standing alone. Spock was not an excellent dancer, and his uneven steps occasionally caused them both to trip over their heels. What's more, he held hands formally, grasping the wrist. It sent shocks of pain up from Kirk's twisted wrist, but it would be a massive breach of Vulcan etiquette to actually hold hands. But it did give him something that he'd wished for—to be able to constantly look up into those dark eyes, to see them looking back, if without passion.

A song or two passed this way, without speaking. Kirk eventually realized that simply staring into someone's eyes without saying anything was also not proper, and asked, "Have you served on many starships?"

"Yes. I was also the Science Officer beneath Captain Pike." Still no sign of emotion.

"The previous captain of the _Enterprise_."

"Yes." Spock's eyes were fixed on a point just above Kirk's head.

"I understand he was accepted as one of Starfleet's finest captains."

For once, Spock looked down and met Kirk's stare. "That is true." He paused briefly, and said with a slight slant of his head, "Hopefully you will be able to meet his accomplishments."

Kirk smiled and said, "I plan to." He kept smiling, and then turned his hand around to grab Spock's hand.

There was a reason why handholding was forbidden among casual acquaintances. Vulcans belonged to the type of telepaths known as kinesthetic, or touch, telepaths. With enough mental focus, the slightest contact was enough to convey thoughts and feelings. Most Vulcans could communicate telepathy best through their hands, and many had extremely sensitive hands. The least hand touch was one of the highest forms of intimacy for them. These Vulcans often wore gloves to protect themselves from being suddenly thrown into a mind-meld in the course of a normal day. Gloves were against Starfleet uniform regulations.

Kirk could see a bright green blush spreading across Spock's cheeks, and he tried to pull his fingers free of the captain's grip. He had a brief flash of his feelings, rushing with panic and excitement, before he blocked off his thoughts. His dark eyes continued to look into Kirk's, and there were flickers of suspicion and fear and, strangely, interest, where there once had been black-brown night. Kirk gave his hand a half-reassuring squeeze, and he blushed to the tips of his pointed ears.

The dance continued on through the night, and the captain and his first officer didn't step out. Spock had long since stopped trying to pull his hand free, and Kirk was meanwhile content to stare up into his eyes. Maybe after so long, the Vulcan's mental walls had slipped, a small amount, and that was what let them stand so close, and dance so in sync. As the reassuring songs began to soften and fade, and couples began to drift off the stage, they came to their senses. They stopped, and looked strangely at each other, as if their memories had slipped away. Kirk stepped back, and Spock finally drew his hand loose. His blush appeared again, and he rubbed his fingers while staring suspiciously at the captain. Kirk immediately felt a wave of painful remorse—the ship hadn't even left the starbase yet and he'd already practically sexually harassed his first officer! He staggered back a few steps, and almost ran out of the dance hall. He hoped, desperately, that McCoy or the commodore hadn't been watching. Hell, anyone who'd seen could almost ruin his reputation. Embarrassment devoured him from within as he speedwalked to his quarters.

Spock was slower to leave the dance, but he still tried to get away from the crowds as quickly as he could. He turned down an empty corridor and leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths.

He knew that such a casual touch shouldn't affect him in this way, but he was very…_sensitive. _As far as he could tell, his human blood had freed him from the struggles of Pon Farr—so far. But without its releasing madness, the stress and tension and sexual frustration tended to build up…

He rubbed his hands again, trying to hide his panic, and glanced desperately around the corridor. It was empty, and the streams of people returning from the dance had thinned considerably. Trying to drive out the memory of the captain's smile, he rejoined them slowly, cautiously.

While walking, he jostled a human male, shorter than him, with a similar blue dress uniform. Spock could sense his eyes on him, but ignored him, until a querulous voice called out, "Hey, where's your partner?"

Spock stopped and turned back to see a middle-aged man, compact, with dark hair and eyes that blazed very blue in his lined face. "What partner?" he asked coolly, and noticed that the man—doctor, by his insignia—had a girl dangling from his arm. So did everyone leaving the dance.

"Why, your _partner._ You know. Spock, isn't it?" The doctor squinted up at the Vulcan. "Huh. I thought I saw you dancing with Jim."

Spock felt his pulse quicken, and he had to fight even harder to quash his seething emotions. _He must be talking about the captain,_ flashed through his head despite his struggle to keep calm. He raised an eyebrow and fixed the doctor with a piercing stare. "Just a single dance doesn't mean that we will be sleeping together," he said, telling off both the prying doctor and his own suppressed passions.

Blatant shock wrote its way across the doctor's face. "What are you, some kind of computer?"

"Merely a Vulcan, Doctor. However, I must thank you for the compliment." Spock was inexplicably amused by the doctor's comments, and also refreshed by the simple pleasure of debate.

"Don't you even have a heart?"

"Of course I do, Doctor." Spock turned and swept away, feeling somewhat more confident in his detached mien. He had nothing to worry about. His attraction to the captain could be submerged easily. There was nothing to worry about.

Even as he thought this, his hand tingled with the memory of the firm grip holding it, and a strange warm sensation spread through his insides.

* * *

><p>Thank you all for your feedback! I have obviously decided to continue it, and I think I will have lots of fun working on this. The original version of the first chapter has been edited and deleted, and here is the new and (hopefully) better version.<p>

Please review and enjoy!


	2. Jealousy

Kirk was bored. There were no other words for it; this mission was dull. They had weeks until they reached their destination. In the week since they'd left the starbase, nothing had happened of note. He sighed, and looked around the recreation room.

He saw his officers smiling, talking, eating. All together. While he, the _captain,_ sat abandoned at a table. Kirk's eyes swept across to another corner…he was not the only one alone…

Spock sat at a far table. His only company was a glass of something and a three-dimensional chess set. He appeared to be playing against himself—his brow was furrowed in concentration, and his hands were folded on his lips. Eventually, he reached out and delicately moved a bishop. He examined the move closely with his lovely dark eyes.

"Heya, Jim." Kirk started, and looked up to see a dark-haired lieutenant grinning at him.

"Gary!" He smiled as Gary Mitchell sat down across from him.

"So, how's command suiting you, Jim?"

"Ah, not bad." Kirk glanced up from the table momentarily to see Mitchell still beaming at him.

"Guess that the captain's going to be getting all the attention, hmm?"

Kirk sighed, and couldn't keep from looking back at Spock. "I wish," he said, unable to keep the longing out of his voice.

When he looked back to Mitchell, his smile had faded somewhat. "_That_," he said disapprovingly. "Is one wish that is _never_ going to be granted."

Kirk let out a disbelieving puff of air. "What makes you think that?"

Mitchell raised an eyebrow. The captain couldn't help thinking that Spock looked _much_ more attractive when he did that. "He's a Vulcan, Jim. You can't seduce a Vulcan! It's like the first law of interspecies romance!" He noticed Kirk's doubt, and leaned forward to put a hand on his shoulder. Kirk was filled with the inexplicable urge to pull away. "Jim, sweetie…" He sighed, his eyes downcast momentarily. "I'm sorry. Maybe I'm just jealous."

"You are," Kirk said, but Mitchell ignored him.

"Just, _please,_ can't you try to love someone within your reach for once? I don't want to see you heartbroken again."

"You were within my reach," Kirk said shortly. "And yet I can't keep track of the times you broke my heart." He stood up and started to walk away. He stopped just behind Mitchell to say softly, "I'm sorry." As he glanced behind him, he saw the single officer in the corner with the chess set. Spock's eyes were glinting at him from between the levels. He'd seen the whole thing.

There was a strange twisting sensation in his stomach, and Kirk left swiftly.

* * *

><p>The next day, Captain Kirk found himself in the rec room again, with little change. Spock was still in the corner with the chess set. Gary should be off shift soon. Kirk foresaw a repeat of yesterday's incident.<p>

But the end of the shift came and went, and Mitchell didn't appear. Kirk's boredom and tension grew stronger, and he wondered how long he should stay, waiting. He sat up, and rubbed his knuckles on the table, staring blankly at the door.

At his table, Spock noticed his nervousness. He was unsure of how to proceed with the captain. Ever since the dance, it had become harder and harder to keep up his emotionless mask. Smiles and frowns were beginning to slip out, and he found himself being unaccountably disapproving of anyone with a close relationship to the captain. Especially the yeomen…and Lieutenant Mitchell. He was, in fact, sure that he had felt something akin to jealousy yesterday at the sight of Mitchell being considerably _personal_ with the captain. Such a thing was impossible, of course. A Vulcan should not—_could not_—feel emotions.

Yet now he was filled with the inexplicable urge to go over to the captain.

Even as he stood up slowly, his brain was working, thinking up a logical reason to do so. He eventually decided it was one of the duties of the senior officers to make sure that the captain was able to work properly, and that included ensuring that they were in good health, and this pining that he seemed to be going through was never good for one's health. The Chief Medical officer not present, the duty fell to him. It was _irrelevant_ if he took pleasure in it.

So refuted, Spock walked over to stand at the captain's shoulder. He said quietly, "Captain," and at his words, Kirk turned. His hazel eyes were startled, but it was a happy startled.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" the captain said with a charming smile. He leaned back in his chair. "To what do I owe your attention?"

Momentarily disarmed, Spock was silent. He quickly gathered his thoughts, as best he could, and began, "You appeared somewhat stressed, Captain. Stress and tension are not conducive to a good command. As it falls within my duty as first officer, I thought—"

Kirk, smiling slightly, held up a finger. "I understand your concern, Mr. Spock…"

"Concern?" Spock tilted his head and began lying through his teeth. "I do not believe _I_ understand. You do know that emotions are foreign to my species. Concern, being an emotion, is not something I am familiar with."

Kirk raised his eyebrows and nodded. Spock could sense his disbelief, but did not comment. "Well, Mr. Spock, get to the point," the captain chided gently. "What did you come over for?"

Spock looked directly at the captain. Those eyes threw him off, but it was somehow worth it. "Do you play chess, Captain?"

* * *

><p>Gary Mitchell entered the rec room, an apology for his lateness prickling on his lips. His eyes went straight to the empty space where Kirk should be sitting, and he almost stumbled in his confusion.<p>

Jim shouldn't be _leaving _him, he thought. No matter how infatuated the captain got, he was always careful…at least enough to let the other person to make the first move… Jealousy sent a swift rush of blood from his pumping heart, and he narrowed his eyes to look around suspiciously. Yes, there they were, in the far corner. Trying to keep his footsteps quiet, Mitchell walked over with tense legs.

Kirk and Spock were playing chess. It was hard to say who was winning.

"Are you sure you want to follow through with that move?" Kirk stared into Spock's eyes, a smile slipping out of the corner of his mouth.

Spock gave him a condescending look. "I always know what I am doing, Captain." He slowly turned over one of Kirk's white pieces in his hand.

Kirk shrugged, and after a moment of pondering reached out to move a bishop. The move took one of Spock's knights. He returned his gaze to the Vulcan, smiling more at the irritated tug of his mouth as he leaned forward to examine the board.

"Having fun, Jim?" Kirk started at the cold voice behind him. He turned to see Mitchell staring down at him with narrowed eyes.

"Ah, Gary! Pull up a chair," Kirk said, gesturing. Mitchell remained standing. Only with a few more words of coercion did he stiffly fold himself into a seat. He didn't take his resentful gaze off Spock.

Spock half-heard the captain talking, trying to bring them into a conversation, but he could only focus on the lieutenant. He had brown eyes, dark hair, and he had seen his winning smile many times before. There was no smile on his face now.

"Spock…" The Vulcan turned back to the captain. _He_ was smiling, but there was nervousness in his tense bite and worried eyes. "Haven't you two served together before?"

Mitchell nodded. Spock affirmed, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two. He had to struggle not to crush Kirk's piece in his hand.

"So, you know each other…" Kirk spread his hands, a chuckle enriching his breath. "What's with all the cold shoulders now?"

Spock folded his hands up and pressed his fingers to his lips. As he pondered his answer, Mitchell turned back to Kirk and said, "It's…a bit of a personal matter." He leaned closer to Kirk, his breath tickling his ear. "Deneb IV, remember?" he murmured. Spock's knuckles went white.

He snapped his wrist out and moved another piece, dragging Kirk's attention back to him with a sarcastic tilt of his head. The captain turned back to him, a smile still painted across his lips.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?"

Spock's eyebrows came together. _"Captain,_" he said. "I have made my move." He leaned back and folded his arms.

Kirk leaned forward to examine the board. His eyes flicked up to look at Spock, and another little laugh bubbled in his throat. Spock couldn't stop a slight smile from twitching his mouth. His heart was beating faster, and he was getting distracted…

Mitchell gently slapped the captain's arm. "Hey, Jim, what're you doing?"

Spock had to fight not to spring up and strike the lieutenant away. Kirk spared Mitchell a half-glance, then returned his gaze to the chessboard. "I'm playing chess, Gary." His hand hovered over one of his pieces. "D'you think you can take your bitchiness somewhere else, please?" Ignoring Gary's offended huff, he moved a piece. The captain smiled up at Spock. "Checkmate."

Spock looked at the board, and looked again. That wasn't possible! "You play quite illogically, Captain," he said between his teeth.

Kirk smirked, and Spock looked away so he wouldn't be distracted again.

"You want to play again?" The captain's fingers tapped playfully on the levels. "Maybe you'll win this time."

"Perhaps tomorrow," Spock replied, noticing Mitchell's glare.

"We'll be approaching the galactic barrier tomorrow."

"Off shift, then?"

"Certainly, Mr. Spock." Kirk stood up, smiling at him. Mitchell sprang to his feet next to him. Spock followed their movements intently—it wasn't like he was admiring the captain, or watching the lieutenant for any advances. Certainly not. Vulcans did not feel love. Or jealousy.


End file.
